


Curious

by feralgirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Jewish Character, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralgirl/pseuds/feralgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vision doesn't understand why Wanda likes such a shitty mug. He goes about asking her in a typical Vision fashion.</p><p>I love my young AI son and his witch gf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curious

Vision didn’t know why Wanda shrieked.

“What is wrong?” He asked, eyebrows pinched from concern. She was standing between him and the counter-top, one hand griping the counter with white knuckles and the other splayed out over her sternum. Her pajama shorts had a printed pattern of small canines, dimly illuminated by the rectangular light over the kitchen sink.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that," She let out a large breath, posture relaxing and dropping the hand that had been on her chest. Vision detected her heart was beating at approximately 114 beats per minute, then 103 beats, then 97 beats, and so forth until it rested at a calm 65 beats per minute.

“I apologize.” He held out the mug, “I saw you straining to reach this so I thought I would offer assistance by reaching it for you.”

Wanda accepted the mug, holding it in both hands.

Where he was standing now, she was blocked from moving either forward or backwards. “Vision? Could you back up so I can reach the kettle?” Her voice was one octave higher than usual.

He complied readily, moving around the island to sit on one of the barstools on the other side. They were called barstools even though, Vision pointed out, this was not a bar (although he had been informed by Stark, anywhere could be a bar "if you just put your back into it – or, actually, your liver").

Wanda picked up the kettle and ran the tap to fill it.

The synthezoid tilted his head in a learned expression of curiousity that he had picked up from his team members. “I am to understand you startled because your primal survival instincts indicated danger. What I don’t understand,” he continued, “is why you reached for this mug when it was out of your reach. There were other mugs on the first, second, and third shelf, all of which you could have reached.”

Wanda turned the tap off and turned the kettle on, her back was turned to him, but when she swiveled Vision could see that there was an influx of blood to her cheeks.

Curious.

Her tone was defensive. “I'm allowed to have a preference."

"But why?" Vision failed to comprehend why Wanda would have a preference for this particular item. For one, it had a structural error: a small chip in the rim. Not only did it indicate an increased vulnerability to subsequent damage, but it was also a safety risk. Someone could slice their lip if it was sharp enough. Second, the mug was clearly far from new, containing many rings on the inside from coffee having sat inside of it long enough to stain. Vision knew that the ring occurred because of the capillary effect; it created an adhesive property in the water, enabling that liquid most concentrated at the top layer to cling to the side of the mug. It was not considered aesthetically pleasing. These factors alone seemed to him enough to deter a person from picking the mug as their favourite, but it was smaller than almost all the other mugs in that cupboard save for one other (which bore the insignia of an educational institution). And the espresso cups.

The kettle began to steam in the background.

"You're going to find my answer strange." she started, pausing to reach into the cupboard over the fridge where hot chocolate mix was kept. There were two small natural indentations, one on either side of her lower back. _Dimples. ___Vision hadn't realized it was possible to have dimples on one's back.

Vision looked away. "I find most of the answers to my questions strange."

The kettle switch clicked, signalling that the water had boiled. Wanda dumped a generous spoon of hot chocolate mix inside her mug, filled it half with water, and the rest with milk till it nearly spilled over. One side of the mug revealed to him the illustration of a flock of birds midst flight. One hand ghosted over the side of the mug, no doubt benefiting from its warmth, while the other stirred the contents with a polished spoon. Vision could see the veins on the flesh of her wrist, half turned towards him, disappearing after an inch and a half then resurfacing in the crook of her elbow, a delicate band of blue stars. He believed it to be beautiful. This was what Ultron could not see. 

"Well. This mug is the only thing of Tony Stark's", her tone turned derisive, "that doesn't look like it is fresh off a factory line." The scarlet witch scrunched her nose. "Too sweet," she commented. Her mouth opened in a yawn that she stifled with the back of her hand. Blue stars flashed. 

"In Sokovia," she said, "we made hot chocolate by boiling milk, cocoa, and a teaspoon or two of sugar on the stove." Another sip. The drink left a sliver of residue on the top of her lip. Vision thought he knew her well enough now to hear an unspoken criticism: _not this prepackaged stuff. ___

"You miss it." Vision didn't mean only the hot chocolate, but the rest of it, too. Sokovia. Pietro. Their life there, fighting for a revolution, walking down streets that held meaning. _Here is where I walked on my way to school as a child. Here is where I learned how to ride a bike for the first time. Here is where I had my bat mitzvah. Here is where I had my first kiss. ___All these pieces of humanity to which he was not privy to.

Wanda didn't look at him; she was stirring her hot chocolate using her chaos magic to turn the spoon clockwise around the mug. 

"I do." she said, still engrossed in her magic. The spoon started turning counterclockwise. "But I could never go back."

"Why?" He was bewildered.

She looked up and met his eyes. Her words were both soft and serious. "Do you really have to ask?" 

The realization clicked much like the kettle had. "Right. Pietro." he paused, "I apologize for bringing it up."

"You don't need to be," she shrugged, "at least you can say his name."

There was the sound of shuffling feet. Nonchalance replaced her seriousness in a second, a bag being zipped up in one smooth motion, and a moment later Sam walked in. His eyebrows shot up.

"Am I interrupting something?" 

Wanda shook her head to one side. This time when she spoke, her accent was less pronounced. "'course not." She placed the spoon in the sink. "I was just leaving." She nodded. "Sam, Vision." 

Sam gave a mock salute, flashing a toothy grin, while Vision simply copied her nod. Grasping her hands in both hands again she padded away, disappearing down the hall towards her bedroom. He had gotten better at copying human gestures, smiling, nodding, and all the other body language cues which conveyed much richer meanings than speech; those meanings eluded him. For example: Wanda rarely shared in the small touches of comradery; swiftly avoiding a pat on the shoulder, crossing her arms to discourage hugs, pulling sleeves over his fingers as if it made them invisible. She didn't gesticulate much, simply shifted her stance, turned her head, letting brown tresses fall over her shoulder. _Why. ___All the information of the digital world and yet he was still ignorant. He had never taken the time to understand what this kind of body language conveyed. Never thought it of any importance, till now.

He found her, in one word, _Curious. ___

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever published. Please give me feedback so I know what worked / what didn't ~~~


End file.
